


A Beginning and an End

by AnnaCipactli12



Series: Hearts Beneath the Ocean [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV), The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaCipactli12/pseuds/AnnaCipactli12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Third in a series and a three-shot. After Jon loses his ruling companion he crosses the sea to find a new one. But in doing so, he becomes part of another broil. (Will be alternating from first POV to third person POV every chapter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the New Age

_ _

_"Are you alright?_  
_You are making me nervous_  
_with how much you leave me here_  
_Is it a sign?_  
_I don't feel like every getting well."_  
**~Go First by Damien Jurado**

 _“It is beautiful beneath the sea. But if you stay too long, you’ll drown.”_  
_~Three Eyed Raven in Game of Thrones, season 6._

 

 ** _“Love no one but your children, on that front a mother has no choice_**.” -Cersei Lannister once told me. I wondered what Cersei would say if she saw me now, big as a whale, pregnant with my fourth child.

Jon always took care of me, as did Arya. But we were never close as married couples ought to be. Passion wasn’t the issue. Nor was happiness. In spite of their constant arguing over strategy and foreign policy, they were happy. They just didn’t love each other.

We knew from day one what our marriage would be like. Jon was my cousin. He needed to hold the North and who better to help him than me.

 _“Did it ever occurred to you that I could offer you advice?”_ It took Jon months for him to take my opinion into account. After he did, things got better. I made up for all the years of bullying by providing him with what a husband needed most: an heir.

* * *

 

The first baby came easy. She labored for less than a day. It slid from her body as easy as Jon’s member the first time they made love. It got better after Eddard was born. Called Eddard Jr. by his best friends, he was a joy to be around.

Jon took him on his missions, teaching him all about building first and leading men. “One day you will be a great warrior like your ancestors.”

_“Like the Targaryens?”_

_“No” Jon said putting him on his knee. “Your Stark ones. Bran the Builder, and all the other great ones, including your late uncle.”_

She hid a smile as young Eddard turn to her, nodding at the little boy. It was the first time that she heard him speak about her brother in a long time. To many, Robert remained the young wolf. To others, he was a fool and a traitor who nearly cost the North their independence thanks to his marriage to a foreign woman.

* * *

 

 _They are right._ _Robb was a fool_. My brother wasn’t strong enough to hold the North. He would have been better off as a squire or as a knight of the Kingsguard. He was a great military leader. But conquering and ruling were two different things.

My brother could have been the greatest conqueror in all of Westeros if he didn’t marry that foreigner. He could have rescued me and saved me all the trouble of winning back the North for me and Jon. Alas, fate was a harsh mistress.

* * *

 

As birthing became more difficult, she turned to natural remedies. Jon approved. He didn’t want to her to overburden herself. Two boys and one girl were more than enough.

Arya was there besides, to keep her company when he was not around. And as of late, he wasn’t around much. When he was though, he always made her feel complete.

* * *

 

Some people say that sex doesn’t equal love. ‘You can’t live off sex.’ ‘When you make love it should be with the person you love, not the one your loins stir for.’ But … isn’t sex a natural part of life? If there was no pleasure to be had, why did the gods not create other means for reproduction.  
As far as I can tell, sex was the best thing to be had and when you had someone who would always protect you and your children, it made it even better.  
  
Jon and I never made silly promises to each other. We were realistic about what we would expect and then Arya found us and well, things got more interesting after that.

Always the idealist, Arya asked me how could I be marrying someone I don’t love but I pointed out, love wasn’t real. I would love my children, I would love our subjects, but love in the sense of falling head over heels with someone to the point that he is all I can think of, is nonsense.

 _“That is not love, that's obsession.”_ And it was the reason why so many Houses disappeared. Arya wasn’t convinced. She had her lover, Gendry Waters who was Robert (I) Baratheon’s bastard. The two had a bastard they named after our slayed brothers, Robb and Rickon. He was a handful but he was fun to be around with, and Eddard loved him. The two boys were raised together and were best friends.

Jon and I often joked that history was repeating itself, with the heir and the bastard being best friends _. “I hope not.”_ Jon said, and I could tell just by the look in his face that he was reminiscing about his time in the Wall, hearing about my father’s death, the Red Wedding and being unable to do anything to avenge their deaths, as well as the horrors he had to go through to keep us all safe.

Arya snaps me from my train of thought, thrusting a dagger in my hand. “It is beautiful but why don’t you give it to Eddard or Rickard? I am sure they would love it more.”

“Rickard has his toy swords, my son has more than enough and so does Ned. And Lya has tons more.” I chuckle at that. My daughter took after me in looks but she was a Stark through and through, learning from her aunt everything about ‘water-dancing’ and sharing lessons with her brothers. But unlike most Northern women, she dressed like a Southern girl, and preferred the stories of the Targaryen Kings over the Northern ones.

“But if the soothsayer is right and this is another girl, she will want this when she is old enough to be part of my guard.”

“What makes you thinks she won’t join the Night’s Watch or the Queensguard down South?”

“Why would she want to join a bunch of outlaws when she can have much fun here? The South will be too hot for her and you know what father always said about the wolves: when winter comes, we all stick together.”

That was true. Winter had come and they had survived by joining forces, putting their petty differences aside and convincing others to join them as well.

* * *

 

They say that when you die you see your whole life flashing before your eyes but that’s not what I saw. I could only see Arya, crying for the first time, begging me not to go. “Wake up liar. You have to wake up.” I was awake but my eyes were nearly shut. She shook me, she shouted more insults, hoping that this would wake me up and when it finally dawned on her that this was the point of no return, she screamed and cursed fate.

Why? She must thought. Why had fate reunited her with her family just to see another member taken away? “It is not fair!” She shouted. When has life has ever been fair? I wished to tell her but my strength was leaving me. The only comfort I got was the cries of my child.

A beautiful baby girl. I could almost see her now. Resting in her father’s knee as he told her of the promised one, Azhor Ahai, and every other song that had been written down in the annals of history since the great war.

I wish I could have lived longer, just long enough to see my children grow into honorable men and women, protecting the North and maybe one day ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

Jon and I had talked about the possibility of him becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms. He always changed the subject but I always kept bringing it up. Daenerys refused to marry and if she really was past the point of childbearing that could only mean one thing. Jon or my son if he doesn’t survive Dany, would become King.

 _Funny,_ I think. _Me, the “little bird”, the “fool”_ -as Cersei called me- _destined to be remembered as the Mother of Kings and perhaps Queens, too_. During the battle of Blackwater Bay, Cersei told me that the only way to make yourself remembered was through fear. “Fear keeps you safe.” But I mentally swore that if I ever become Queen, I would make myself loved instead.

My dreams came true. But at what cost? I don’t justify what I did. I am not a heroine because heroines only exist in the songs. In real life the monsters win and to make this a better world, I had to become what I hated. And yet, I managed to make myself be loved. Those who will mourn me will remember a woman who wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done to restore order to a kingdom that had been torn by family feuds, who married her cousin and became his trusted adviser. But most of all, they will remember me as the woman who gave the King of the North, his heirs.

It was a price worth paying for playing a dangerous game. A game I was afraid of and didn’t want to be a part of but I was forced to play by unscrupulous men. If I could go back, I would have looked for ways out of it but I can’t go back. This is the life I have and hearing my child’s cries, I am grateful because through her, my legacy will remain.


	2. Even Ice can Burn more than Fire

_ _

_“I am a Princess, skin made of marbles_  
smoother than a storm  
and the scars that mark my body  
they are silver and gold  
my blood is fire  
the rubies, precious stone  
that keep my veins hard  
the fire has made a home in me  
I move through town  
I am quite like a fire  
and my necklace is a rope  
I tie and untie …  
And people talk to me  
but nothing ever hits  
so people talk to me  
and the voices just burn so …”  
~Yellow Flicker Beat by Lorde (Hunger Games)

Men and women from all over the Seven Kingdoms and Christian Europe came to pay their respects to the Queen of the North. Jon Targaryen Stark showed very little emotion.

Indeed, what they said about the Starks was true. They were cold and unyielding as the land they were born into. When Henry VIII’s ambassador pushed forward the prospect of marrying his youngest daughter, Jon didn’t flinch or tell him to get the hell out. He invited him to Winterfell Castle’s great hall and asked him to tell him more.

The English ambassador loved this King. Here was a man who wasn’t ruled by emotion. When Henry VIII heard of King Jon’s petition to send a portrait of his beloved Elizabeth, he sent one right away. Jon wrote back, telling him he was pleased and that he would come to England to meet with her.

Preparations were made, women dressed in their finest gowns and men wore their heavier chains. Everyone was curious to see the Winter King.

“A man who is duty-ridden, not like the rest of the kings here.” Some whispered. “Finally, a model for kingship.”

They had no idea who Jon Targaryen Stark was, or who Sansa Stark Targaryen had been. The two had ruled as one. They quarreled, they fought but they never let that come between them. Unclouded by delusions of love, they took comfort in each other’s arms and did their best to restore order to the North. With the help of Arya Stark, her lover, and the legendary Brienne of Tarth, they became a force de tour.  
Why Jon had not shed a tear for Sansa was obvious to the North. His wife would not want her to, the North was as different from the rest of Westeros as Westeros was from Christian Europe.  
Strength and honor were valued. Respect wasn’t merely given, it had to be earned and the two of them had earned it after years of suffering and dealing with unspeakable evils.  
What Jon and Sansa built would never be forgotten.

 _“Love is just an emotion as many others.”_ Sansa had once said, when a Southern Ambassador asked her if it felt odd, the first time she and Jon lay together as man and wife, after having been raised as brother and sister. _“Love comes naturally as does hate. But it is not eternal, those who say it is, say it because they have mistaken it with obsession. You can love a person and not love him the next day.”_ When the Ambassador pressed her again, she pointed to her smiling children below playing with their cousin. _“Our union produced that. Isn’t that greater than any so called ‘true love’?”_ She declared and he said nothing more on the subject.

As Jon and his Northern entourage made their entrance, the English courtiers and foreign ambassadors couldn’t help but be in awe of them. Their late Queen’s time in the South had certainly influenced their sense of fashion, but compared to their neighboring realms, they still looked somber.

The women wore black, white, blue or purple or a combination of both. Young Lyanna Mormon, head of the Bear Islands, had a long black and white gown with no headdress. Her face was completely expressionless as the rest of her female companions.  
Arya Stark, Captain of the Guard, had her hair up. She wore a dress and a chest plate, making it clear that despite being noble-born, she was no lady.  
The North men wore simple clothing, bearing the arms of their houses with the wolf emblazoned on it.

But the man who stole the show as their King. He wore a silver cape beneath a black and white military outfit. Two wolves were on either side of his cape. One was his sigil. A red and white, signifying his Targaryen and Stark ancestry while the other was his late wife’s. A black wolf surrounded by roses and thorns.  
He wore no crown. He did not need to. His regality, his clothing and the Valyrian sword on his hip, made it clear to everyone he was King in the North.

Jon and his Northmen took their respective seats. When Bess made her entrance she earned looks of approval from her peers and disapproval from the Northmen. She couldn’t wait to meet this man. She was a bit weary at first but when she heard about how his late wife, she was excited. Any man who made his wife co-ruler, and let her sister be captain, was worthy of her time. She ignored the bored looks from his men. If Sansa Stark had brought culture to the North, so could she. She was a King’s daughter after all, she could do anything.

**~o~**

Unaware to them, another young girl was watching the whole scene unfold with great curiosity.

Kathryn Tudor Laninster had feigned a stomachache so she could stay in her chambers. She and her mother played maidens and dragons where they would pretend to wear chain mail and save helpless fools from the angry dragon guarding the tower. When her mother had gone to tend to her baby brother, Kathryn sneaked from her rooms and peered at the play where her aunt Bess played one of the muses. _Poor aunt Bess, she is doing her best to enchant the King of the North._ But the King of the North didn’t look interested.

 _Or maybe he does but it is all a big pretense_. The Queen of the North wasn’t like most Northern girls and yet she was remembered as a great Consort. Maybe aunt Bess will enchant him as Sansa Stark did.

She returned to her chambers, wishing the best for her aunt.

* * *

 

Jon didn’t think much of this English court. It was no different than the ones in the South. People’s flattery drove many of his men and women crazy, including Arya who escaped the constant probing of ladies who couldn’t fathom a woman choosing to live like she did.

Lady Lyanna Mormont was faring no better. She silenced the women’s incessant chatter pointing out their hypocrisy while the men put the English lords to shame who boasted about their male pride. “How many women have you bedded? Two, three? In the North that is child’s play. My lady Lyanna’s mother was bedded by more than a dozen men and she is the product of one of those.” One of them said, earning a glare from the Duke of Suffolk who turned his back on his friend’s guests and sat with his fellow courtiers.

Looks like I am going to fit right in here. Jon thought sarcastically. Lady Elizabeth Tudor didn’t mind the looks of disapproval she got from his peers. It almost seemed to Jon as if she reveled in them. Not so unlike Sansa. Sansa thought she could take on the whole world and whenever someone said something unpleasant to her, she bit her tongue, choosing actions instead of words to prove them wrong.  
_And yet words were also her shield._

If Sansa were alive, she would do a better job at this game of diplomacy. His wife was a born politician, like her mother, lady Catelyn, she knew when to say the right things.

 _But I must try._ _The North needed an alliance. And so did the Seven Kingdoms. If Sansa was right and I am going to rule them someday, I need to make alliances with bigger houses._  
France and Spain had been out of the question. The Kings there preferred to deal with more civilized peoples likes the ones in the South. He’d heard from one of his ambassadors in France, that Francois I would prefer one of the lords of the Iron Islands than a _“filthy Northerner.”_  
_“Kill the boy, let the man be born.”_ Maester Aemon had said. Jon Targaryen Stark had plucked his heart and let all his hopes and dreams die to take on a greater responsibility. As King, he had to do what was best for his people and that included pretending to be grateful before people who cared about nothing more than feasting and being pampered.

This should be called a clown’s court instead of a King’s court. If Sansa can see me now. She’d be telling me, behave Jon. This is important. His children needed a mother. Arya was a good guardian but it was not the same. They missed her and so did he. She was a good friend, bed mate and adviser. She helped him keep the peace in the North and made alliances with other kingdoms.

She was a winter rose. Another one would take her place. Lady Elizabeth Tudor had a lot to recommend her. Bastard or not, she was a King’s daughter and good enough for Jon. People criticized him for accepting Henry’s proposal too soon going so far as saying that he was insulting his wife’s memory but they didn’t know anything about his wife. If Sansa were in his position she would have done the same. Duty was what kept them safe all these years and what kept their family together.

Glancing back at the Lady Elizabeth, who asked Arya Stark all kinds of questions about the North and what to expect. She was also a rose but of a different kind. She smiled and act according to her station, but she wasn’t devoid of wit as most of the ladies of her father’s court. And she didn’t cry or showed anger when Arya told her that the North wasn’t a place for weak girls.

“She is a good lady isn’t she?” Tommen asked him. He took the vacant seat next to Jon.

“Aye, she is.” Jon said, glad to see a familiar face from the Seven Kingdoms. “How long it has been Your Grace, five, ten years?”

“Not Your Grace, not in that way anyway. I am a Duke now.”

“You will always be Your Grace to me. It is good to see you again Tommen.” Jon said earnestly. “I must say, I never expected you to get used to all of this.”

“It was hard but after the first three ladies you see below, it became far easier.” Tommen told him. “If you donned your cape and put on a smiley face, they’d not be so shy around you.”

Jon laughed. “I never expected you to be the womanizer type. You were always big on the gods and now on this Christian god.”

“Just because I believe in the Almighty, doesn’t mean I can’t use my dick. Besides what better way to worship than with three devout women screaming ‘oh my god’ all night?”

Jon shook his head. “You never change Tommen. Still seeing the good in everything.”

“One has to. How is Eddard Jr? You write so little these days.”

“He is good.” Jon said.

“Why is he not here?”

“He wanted to come but his aunt and I thought it was better for him to remain with his siblings under Ser Gendry and Lady Brienne’s protection. He told me to tell you that he is grateful for the gift you sent him.”

“The best for my godson.” Tommen said. “I remember when my lady mother met the Lady Brienne. I thought she was going to rip her to shreds. I couldn’t believe a lady wearing man’s clothes but there she was, proud and tall. Joffrey dismissed her very quickly and then my mother acted like a jealous hound after she asked her about my father. It would have been great if Brienned answered her question on whether or not she loved Jaime Lannister, with ‘like a brother.’ Can you imagine Cersei Lannister, hearing that?”

“I can’t but it would have been a sight to see.”

“Let us to drink to that imaginary sight.” Tommen said, toasting.

After Daenerys had taken the throne and she and Jon ended the long night, Tommen had gone to Winterfell. Sansa and Jon were weary of him, believing he was as foul as his mother. When it became evident he wasn’t, against Arya’s advice, the three became friends. Jon and Sansa sent him gifts, cloaks, pelts, and gemstones on the day of his wedding. Though they couldn’t be there in body, they wrote to him that they were there in spirit.  
It was disheartening to hear that things weren’t going well between him and the Lady Mary. The King had given him lands and titles and he had what he always wanted: a family. But it wasn’t enough. His friend was haunted by the past and didn’t want to let go of it.

Jon hadn’t met the lady Mary yet, but from what he heard, she was a beautiful woman who would make any husband proud. Her only fault is in marrying the wrong man. Sansa wrote endlessly to Tommen reminding him of his duty but Tommen wrote back telling him that the Lady Mary was a woman who was proud and stubborn, and who didn’t behave like a wife should.

Out of all the Lannisters, Tommen was the only one his wife warmed up to so it hurt her to hear him speak with so much hatred. _If my wife and his uncle couldn’t reach him, I won’t._ So Jon chose not to tell his friend he ought to try.

“In all seriousness though; I think you will get used to the English court very quick. If you are lucky, Bess will make a little England of the North.”

“I pray to the old gods she doesn’t. I can’t imagine Arya wishing to wear these ridiculous headdresses.” Jon said, turning to Arya who was steeped in conversation with his betrothed.

“Speak for yourself, I pray that she does. It is a sigh I would pay to see and I suspect my father as well.”

Jaime Lannister no doubt would. He never enjoyed his visits when he was away. His late wife and Arya always put on a play of “Cersei, the wolf and the dragon” or “the war for Cersei’s cunt” where she was ridiculed and her death was retold countless times, each one more humiliating than the last.

“She will make you happy, trust me.” Tommen said, returning Jon’s attention to him. “How do you know?” The King of the North asked him.

“She is a good lady, good to my children and speaks many tongues which will become very useful when you become King of Westeros.”

“If I become king.”

“Come on Jon, it is known that Daenerys will never marry and with no direct descendant, the crown will pass unto you. Henry VIII knows this and it is why he is risking so much betrothing his daughter to you.”

“He wants to control me via Elizabeth.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. Sansa said duty first, emotions second. If my sister-in-law makes you happy and England is still your ally by the time you become King of Westeros, then what is not to like?”

Jon didn’t respond. Sansa did say that, but she also mentioned that a King wasn’t ruled by anyone, lest he wanted to appear weak. But Sansa would also tell him to stop being sentimental and use his head. This was a good match. Elizabeth would be a good consort, it would bring him an alliance. The rest was inconsequential.

* * *

“He is rather handsome isn’t he?” Kathryn’s question took Mary by surprise.

“Excuse me?” Kathryn chuckled at her and whispered in her ear the name of the North’s King. “You shouldn’t have sneaked on your aunt’s ball like that.” Mary gently chastised her.

“But lady mother, he is fair to look upon and Bess seems taken with him.”

“I am sure she does.” Mary said, though it was more to herself than to her daughter. _Sweet dreams sister, reality will break your door as it did with mine and before you know it, you will be waking up to find yourself stuck in the same nightmare._

The only thing that made her life tolerable was her children, especially Kathryn. If the legend of Melusina had been true, Mary would have thrown herself from the highest window or starved herself to death. Kathryn was the fairest of them all. Rose colored lips, fair skin, green eyes that were brighter than any jewel, and dark auburn hair just like hers. She had turned twelve and every boy competed for her attention when she emerged from her rooms, accompanied by her step-grandmother, the Queen. Both of them were dressed in gold, with silver and gold headdresses, but whereas the Queen wore high heels to make herself look taller than her teenage step-granddaughter, Kathryn worse simple jewels and didn’t have as many jewels in her dress or her neckline. She didn’t have to when she already looked like one. Most boys went home disappointed, they had tried to test the waters with the King’s granddaughter, hoping that they would find favor through her but Kathryn broke their hearts with a simple ‘no’, choosing her uncle, the dwarf and her grandfather, the King as her dance partners.

 _One day I will see her as the true Queen she was born to be_. Although women couldn’t inherit unless all their male relatives were dead, Mary had big dreams for her daughter. She was as good as any man, if not more, and she was the only one of her offspring who had inherited her hair color.  
The rest are Tommen’s, but she and her little brother are mine. Little John Tudor Lannister had a crown of gold resting on his miniature head, and he possessed most of the Lannister features, with the major exception of his eyes and his demeanor. When he was born, Mary bled so much and she thought she was going to die but when she woke up, she was presented with her son. She cried tears of frustration at first. She had wished for this son to be hers. She was going to give him to the midwife when the baby opened his eyes and began laughing when he saw his mother’s smile.  
_He has my eyes._ She thought and brought him closer to her, kissing his forehead. _I will protect you with my life.  
_ As soon as Tommen came, the baby started crying, refusing to be held by Tommen. He wanted to be next to Mary and eventually Tommen let her keep him.

Her daughter’s words brought her back to the present. “Will I ever marry a handsome Prince as well?”

“You will marry the handsomest Prince of them all, and you will get to rule over him and his lands, and lead his armies just like your great-grandmother Isabella of Castile.”

“Will you be there with me to share my victories?” Kathryn thought, humoring her mother with her excitement.

“Of course I will. I will always be with you and your brothers.” She said, thanking herself mentally for not saying brother.

“I want to marry a King. And be his Queen, and have many children and be loved by everyone, and also have as many castles and dresses and dance whenever I want to. I will be Kathryn the Merciful, as beautiful as Aphrodite and as wise as the goddess Athena.”

“Those are not real my love, but you will be loved I can assure you. You must also be strong. Queens must be ready for anything.”

“Why? Why can’t I just be loved through my kindness? Isn’t that how Esther freed her people from the evil Haman?”

“Esther lived in a different time and she could afford to be kind because the King loved her and everyone could see except him, that Haman was evil.”

“So I can make a King love me or marry someone that already does and the two can get rid of evil men.”

“I am afraid it is not that simple Kathy. Some men’s evil are too strong and they are so good at lying that people are unwilling to believe the truth.”

“That doesn’t matter.” She said with a triumphant smile, picturing herself as a second Esther. “I will make them. And I will do it without the need of a sword or shield. I will be like Diana.”

“Diana was not the goddess of peace and she did fight just as your favorite goddess, Athena.”

“But she was one of the most beautiful goddesses. I will be like her, young and beautiful, and everyone will love me.”

Mary kissed her cheek. It was moments like these that Mary wished she could be her daughter’s age again. It was such a beautiful age, the future seemed golden and you thought you were unstoppable.

“And if not, then my husband will do it for me.”

Mary frowned. “You are the daughter of a King’s daughter, granddaughter and great-granddaughter of Kings. Never put yourself beneath someone.” Especially a man like your father. The women in her family had been at the mercy of men for far too long. Kathryn deserves better. She deserves to be worshipped. She hadn’t wasted so much time on her so she could end up like the other mindless girls in her father’s court.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to bypass my roots but I have seen how other girls chase after boys and heard about the tale of Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville, how he risked everything just for her and even my grandparents.” She said, referring to Jaime and Cersei Lannister. Though their relationship was unnatural, she couldn’t help but sigh every time she reminisced about the story. “I want something like that. I want to have a romance and have everyone love me.”

“You will have all that and more. You are my daughter and the descendant of great kings and queens but you must be patient. You don’t want to abandon your mother so soon, do you?”

Almost on instinct, Kathryn shook her head. Though truth be told, she yearned to get out of the British Isles and ride a dragon. It was whispered that two still lived with the Queen of the Seven kingdoms but they went around the world so they were seldom seen.  
_Even if I don’t get to ride one, I want to see the world. Be with a man I love._ She did not miss the way her parents looked at one another. She did not want a loveless union but she understood that it was her duty as a daughter to obey and marry whomever she was ordered to. _The most I can do is make the best of it._ From her grandfather’s current wife, she learned how a woman through subtlety and elegance could command great respect from her peers and have others do what she willed. _Someday, I will be like her_.

* * *

The King of the North was a walking contradiction. He was kind, yet cold. He was receptive, yet he didn’t let his emotions show as others in her father’s court did. Bess was told by her friend and head of her ladies, Kat Ashley, that she was going to marry a contradiction.

“Perhaps I will, but for the want of a nail isn’t that exciting?” Bess asked, picturing herself in the Northern court.

“You will be his Ice Queen instead of the Summer Queen like your mother would have wanted.”

“My lady mother would have wanted me to be my father’s heir so she could keep both of us safe. That did not happen. The past is past Kat, if it is my destiny to be an Ice Queen I shall be the best Ice Queen that ever walked God’s green Earth.” She paused then added with one of her charming smiles that dazzled many courtiers and from which, her niece Kathryn had learned a lot. “After all, ice when held for too long burns hotter than fire. Hotter than the sun even. My fire will burn brighter than any other before me.” She said with a tone of finality.


	3. The Legacy We Make for Ourselves

_"I am heading straight to the castle  
they want to make me their queen  
and there is an old man sitting on the floor_   
_saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean_   
_I am heading straight for the castle_   
_They've got the kingdom locked up_   
_and there is an old man sitting on the floor_   
_saying that I should keep my pretty mouth shut."_   
**~Castle by Halsey**

_“We bend the universe to our will but it will only go so far.”_

**_~Enough_ **

When a King goes to his queen, there is great ceremony awaiting him. The torch-bearers are there, as are her ladies, who will be dismissed until their sovereign, and their mistress’ lord husband arrives, and she can tell them to go. It is a great honor to be in the presence in the queen. Serving her however, takes a great deal of courage. Your life becomes hers. Everything that she dislikes, you must dislike as well.

Elizabeth had not served any of her father’s queens, but had been close to all of them to know what their position entailed and through her latest stepmother, she learned a great deal. In observing Katherine Parr as regent and queen consort, Elizabeth learned a good deal about how women could think for themselves and govern. She greatly admired her lady stepmother’s literary output and often discussed issues of a theological nature when the coast was clear, and her father’s spies were not around to repot her. Tommen attended these lectures too and always provided them with cover.

Elizabeth was not however, a pragmatist as most people believed her to be. She felt deeply attached to her sister, despite what Mary’s allies thought of her. “Concubine’s bastard” they called her. “Bastard since before her birth.” “Born from deceit, she is not prepared for queenship.” They thought she was unworthy of marrying someone as distinguished as Jon Tagaryen-Stark, the King in the North. But these men did not know that Elizabeth possessed attributes that her sister did not and that separated her from other ladies at court.

She had a heart, but she was wise enough not to show it, unless she was sure the person she entrusted with, would reciprocate her feelings. Although she never knew her lady mother, she surrounded herself with people who had, and who had been close to people who were her friends and through them she got to know the woman they called “witch” and “whore” a little better.

 _“Your mother”_ they told her _“was not a witch and she was certainly not a whore. She was in fact a distinguished lady who would have stopped the sun from setting if it meant keeping you alive.”_ But her lord father and her enemies had other ideas. The former wanted a son and he had grown tired of her mother. He could not handle women who pointed out his flaws so when Jane Seymour, a woman who smiled and did everything she was told to do, he naturally threw her under the carriage. Jane however did not live long. Some people -in the Protestant camp- believed that it was a curse from god, for walking all over Anne Boleyn’s body. But for Elizabeth it was nothing more than mere coincidence.

Elizabeth feared for her current stepmother. She was gentle, but also firm with all of her stepchildren, especially with her. But her father was beginning to suspect of her Protestant leanings. _Who will protect her when I am gone?_ There was her brother-in-law Tommen, but Mary hated him and knowing her sister, she would let that hate win over her love for Katherine _. It has to be someone else._ Her thoughts turned to her half-siblings. _Of course!_ Her brothers would save her from the scaffold. They loved her. They practically worshipped the ground she walked on. If our lord father sees how much she means to them, he will never let Gardiner persuade them.

So while His Grace, the King of the North, was visiting England, she worked her charm. Making sure she was always seen with them, giving him a good impression of him, and also convincing the two of them to frequent their lady stepmother as much as possible, their father distanced himself from Gardiner and his cronies more and more.

Success finally came when her lady stepmother asked His Majesty to lecture them on the nature of the Eucharist, and God, because she _“being a poor, feeble woman”_ had lost all common sense when it came to the Almighty. This was done in front of the entire court. It impressed Tommen and even her. But out of all the shocked faces there was one whose only shock was visible in his eyes.

“That was a nice thing you did there.” Jon said, coming to sit next to her after her brothers left, deciding to sit closer to their stepmother instead.

Bess turned to the King in the North. “Thanks. Though I am not sure what you are talking about.”

Jon smirked. “You have a good heart. You almost remind me of my late wife. She had a good heart as well, but she was not as sneaky as you.”

“Are you sure? From what I remember, Your Grace, she is the only one of Cersei’s tormented victims who survived and lived to tell the tale.” Bess said, remembering what she heard from her brother-in-law and Kat Ashley (who heard it from Mary, who being Mary, didn’t offer a good opinion on the late Queen of the North). “In fact, if it weren’t for her you would not have won the battle against the true bastard, Ramsay Snow.”

“Ramsay Bolton. Bastard or not, he was legitimized.”

“By a King who was not a true King.” Bess pointed out. “Snow.”

Jon chuckled. “You have a strange sense of humor, my lady but I did win the battle fair and square and it was the North who acclaimed me King, not my wife.”

“Because you were the natural option. The natural born son of Lord Eddard Stark, last Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Were it not for the impression you had caused on lady Mormont, her ladyship would have never done such a thing, nor would the others have followed.”

“What is your point?”

“Nothing, Your Grace, except that where the North men and women are concerned, I am not the right person to wear the Ice crown of a consort which makes our marriage more enticing.” Bess said, grinning as she looked at said ladies, including his cousin, lady Arya who looked away, annoyed with Bess’ courtly manners which she thought as useless.

“Charming, just like her but the point still stands. It is me who is King.”

“And me who will be a mere Consort. Got it, Your Grace. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t exert influence over others. The greatest women in history have been those who have used what little power they had, to gain more power and I have seen how the people look to my stepmother and I intend to do the same once I get to Winterfell.”

“How are you sure that your lord father won’t change his mind? Or that I won’t change my mind? Betrothals are not a sure thing. He needs an ally, and naturally as the heir presumptive of my aunt, he turns to me. But if my aunt were to suddenly marry or have a son, he will break the arrangement, make some excuse for it, and look to someone else.”

“He won’t. Trust me.” Bess said, sure of herself. There was nothing more she loved than a challenge and now that the King of the North had challenged, there was nothing more she wanted than to be his queen, and become the most loved in the North. And someday -she thought- in all the seven Kingdoms.

* * *

If Jon were any other man, he would have heeded his once-sister’s advice and turned the King’s offer down, making up some excuse, as he had accused the King of England of doing to Elizabeth once Jon became useless, but something in him told him that he’d regret it for the rest of his life if he did. So when the day came to sign the Treaty of The Ice Dragon and the Tudor Rose, he agreed. Wearing his best clothes and sporting a “gift” the lady Elizabeth had given to him the day before, he signed it.

When the day came, Jon chose to be wed in England under two priests. It was sacrilegious -some people said- but Jon didn’t care what the vain mouths of his future wife’s English peers said. It was either that or nothing at all.

“You have a lot of balls, Your Grace. Let’s hope they give us an heir before the year is over.” Henry VIII told his son-in-law to be and fellow monarch.

“I assure you, Your Majesty, they will or else I wouldn’t boast of three healthy children.” Jon said back earning a glare from the King of England which soon disappeared as the King broke in laughter. Henry VIII slapped his back and said it was time to take him in the Abbey. They were the first ones there, followed by their guests.

There was only person missing. The bride. She was in her chambers, being adorned with the finest pearls. Two of them had belonged to her third stepmother, lady Anne of Cleves, who was now the King’s sister.  
She made sure that her ladies knew what they were doing and when they were unsure where to put them, lady Anne shooed them and put them on her coronet themselves. “They look wonderful on you!” She exclaimed in her thick German accent. “Much better on you than they looked on me.”

“Thank you Anne, this means a lot.” Elizabeth said, and Anne said it was nothing but to Bess it was. These were the gems that Anne had worn when she married her father. In Bess’ opinion, she had looked stunning, but her father -who never knew the value of something until he lost it- thought differently.

“We have to paint your eyes now. You must look your best.” Anne said, going for the make-up.

“I do not think that will be necessary. She looks wonderful already.” Mary said, coming into the room. “Bess, you look every inch of a queen.”

“Thank you, Mary. But I am nervous. You saw how the ladies Arya and Mormont saw me.”

“They are jealous. You will be their queen and much higher than them. Naturally, they resent you because they think that role belongs to a true Northener.” Mary said, putting on Bess jeweled necklaces around her little sister’s neck. “When they see you, they will turn green with envy which is only fitting given the colors of your gems on your belt and your furred sleeves.”

Both sisters laughed. “How I will miss you.” Bess said and Mary knew she meant it. Though their relationship had become strained, there was that genuine affection for each other -and understanding- that nobody else would ever be able to deliver to them.

A lump formed in Mary’s throat. Regaining her composure, she smiled at her sister and told her, “We will write to each other daily.”

“It won’t be enough. I need you there with me. I can’t do this alone.”

“Yes, you can. You are the daughter of a King, my sister and more importantly a Tudor. You will do great.” Mary said. At this Bess jumped from her seat and forgetting all royal protocol, hugged her sister.

Mary was overtaken with emotion and cried. _Why do I have to be so weak?_ If she had been born a boy, none of this would have happened. Bess would not have been born. Or maybe she would have, but she would not have to face these hardships alone. So much confusion born out of deceit. A part of her jealousy had died when Bess twined her arms around her. Now the only thing she could think of was her little sister, alone in the world, in a strange country with ruffians and unrefined women who would speak behind her back, and wait for her to make a mistake to get rid of her.

 _I will not let them._ Thinking back to her dreams, one thing changed. Her sister was no longer before her, being at her mercy as her other enemies. She was next to her. The two of them as allies against those who had wronged them.

“Maybe you can come with me.” Bess suddenly said after she unlocked her arms from her.

Mary’s tears became dried up and she regained her stoicism. I must be strong. If she wanted to keep her sister safe, she had to be tough as her lady mother was with her. A future Consort can be seen as weak. And with all the wolves and bears in the North, Bess better steal herself. So Mary calmly told her that was not possible and told her again to be strong. Lifting her chin up, she told her to smile and show the Northerners what Tudors were made of.

* * *

When Mary told her to show her future subjects and in-laws what Tudors were made of, Bess was angry. How could her sister talk about politics on the most important day of her life -when she needed support above all else.

But when she reached the King in the North, she did as her sister told her to and straightened up. The two then knelt and took the sacrament. Then when both priests, Cranmer and the Arch-Maester that Daenerys Targaryen had sent from across the narrow sea, asked them if they accepted one another as man and wife, they each took turns to say yes, along with their written vows. Afterwards, he kissed her. It wasn’t a true kiss. It was short and sweet. The kind you received from a family member, not your future husband.

At the banquet, Bess became more nervous. Remember who you are. She did. I am Bess of the House of Tudor and now a Targaryen, Queen of the North, and someday I will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. That gave her strength. Strength which increased when Jon asked her to dance.

“Now who is being too bold? The groom must ask His Majesty first.”

“Ah, that is right. Politics and convention but I am not a conventional man, and this is our wedding so let us enjoy some rule breaking before we go back to being royals. Shall we?” How could she refuse when he asked so nicely? She ignored the stares and took his hand.

When the two began, she was surprised to find he knew when to turn and change dance partner.   
“I learned from someone who had experience in Southern courts.” Jon explained.

“What else did she taught you?”

“A lot. If I am going to rule the Seven Kingdoms one day, I must know everything from poetry, history and other things that a roughneck like me won’t be expected to, including soft-talk.”

“Then I won’t have to struggle too much with you.” Bess said, attempting a jest. It failed miserably as some of the ladies who listened made a face that said it all. But Jon thought it was funny.

“You are the first person who I fight this much with. Tommen says you will make an England in the North while I told him there is not a chance of that happening.”

“My brother-in-law is many things. A poor husband, a good friend and a scholar from time to time, but he is not a seer. I am not going to make a little England out of the North, Your Grace, but I will bring something of it with me so unless you want to make a promise you can’t keep, you will have to abstain yourself from promising that you won’t let me because I do to be useless.”

Jon nodded. After they had enough and they returned to the high table, he told her, “Call me Jon. It is Jon, not Your Grace when we are not in public.”

“Elizabeth or Bess, just don’t call me Bessie.” She said and he agreed, and to prove that he did, the two of them shook hands in the manner sovereigns did with each other in Westeros.

With that, a friendship that would last a lifetime, was born. And when the bedding came, none of them squirmed. It hurt, she bit her lip, but she didn’t scream. This was what she was born to do, and it was also what she wanted. The day after, everyone bowed their heads to her and addressed her by her proper title as “Her Grace”. She was Queen now, and in less than a month she would leave England for her new home in the North of Westeros.  
Looking down at her mother’s necklace, which one of her ladies had smuggled away before they cut her head and given it to Kat who in turn gave it to her; Bess said; “I did it, mama.” And put it in her chest which had her initials and Jon’s.  
She meant what she said to Jon. She was not going to make a little England out of the North, but she wasn’t going to be the pliant, useless wife that his men expected her to be. She was going to bring something of her home-country with her, starting with her mother’s necklace _. And should I ever have a daughter, I will pass it on to her_ -she vowed.


End file.
